Amnesia (Eyeless Jack X Reader)
by we were made to be ruled
Summary: My name is (Y/N). I've had my memories stolen from me and my life changed irrevocably. Jack is a cannibal serial killer who runs around in a mask, but he's the least of my worries. EJ belongs to Azelf5000 /licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Some changes have been made :)
1. Prologue

**The middle of the night**

READER

_I can't move._

My body aches and my head feels heavy; the bed is soft though, and inviting, so I drift back into darkness. I pay little attention to the figure shutting the door.

**Morning**

READER

I groan as I burrow my face into the pillows, the comforting darkness of the room is broken by one persistent ray of light penetrating the curtains. I crack open my eyelid to stare lazily at the offending beam reaching through the... blue? No green? Yellow? What colour are the curtains?

My brain leaps to attention as I take in cream patterned curtains. I don't have cream curtains. Right?

It seems to be a recurring theme: cream curtains,cream walls, carpet, bed covers, even the soft cotton shift I wear is cream. The strangest part is how new the room is: it looks like it should be on a glossy double spread for a magazine. I don't belong here - I live in a house in... somewhere. With my family. I'm sure I have a family, a parent or two, a sibling maybe?

_I can't remember._

I reach down to curl my arms around my knees, holding myself together as I try to search my mind. My name is (Y/N). I am a girl and I am (Y/A). My favourite colour is (F/C) and I spend too much time on the internet. Knowing that I can at least remember myself is comforting, but I can remember other stuff; the things I learnt in school are still safe in my mind; when I try to recall the faces of my teachers I draw blanks. In fact, if I try to remember _anyone's_ faces they're blank figures. Celebrities and politicians are easy but not my best friend and childhood crush, my weird cousins and the bullies from school. The figures that appear in everyone's lives are shades to me. The details of my bedroom and the model of my laptop and my mums phone number have all been stolen from me.

_I don't understand._

I step out of the duvet; I feel out of place here. Luckily the furniture doesn't creak and the floor doesn't give me away as I take light and careful footsteps towards the door. I reach for the handle, however as my fingers brush the cool brass, it turns. I take a step backwards and the door swings open. I curl my fingers into balls hanging limply at my side as a figure approaches me.

She flashes a smile at me and walks past, opening the curtains with a flourish she turns around.

"Morning (Y/N), sleep well?" Her voice is bright but also measured, as if her words were practised.

"Who the hell are you?" I say. My voice is completely monotone, the shock's got to me.

The woman's smile falters and she sighs,

"Oh dear (Y/N), not this again. Follow me, please, and I'll explain!" Her voice picks up and she ushers me out of the room and down a staircase, as we walk she tosses her blonde hair and calls to me over her shoulder.

"My name is Charlotte dear, but you call me Lottie. You mustn't be worried - all will become clear soon!" I follow her into the kitchen and take in her appearance, blonde hair brushes her shoulders and brown eyes look at me through thick artificial lashes. She seems to be in her 40's and has a professional look about her. Even though she stands a few inches shorter than me she's imposing and I comply helplessly as she tells me to sit. She slides a piece of paper towards me across a polished marble table and looks at me intently, as if examining my reaction; her other hand brushing against her lips. I look down at the paper only to recognise, honestly and be surprised that I recognise, my handwriting.

_Trust Lottie, it'll make sense soon :)_

"I don't understand"My voice is a hush now.

"I'm your state-appointed carer Lottie, we live here since you prefer to be away from people. Honestly sweetie it's for the best; you suffer from memory loss every few months so this isn't the first time we've been through this. Sometimes you lash out but you're a good girl really; we've lived here for years" She finishes with her last words as an afterthought and crosses her arms; she leans towards me holding my gaze in her own.

"After a few days you'll adjust and we can carry on as normal!" I look around the spotless kitchen; it's like a show home. How could I have lived here for years?

_I don't trust Lottie._

What can I possibly do though other than smile and agree? Then there's the matter of the note. I'm convinced that I did write it.

"I'm going to get ready, maybe have a nap" I mutter as I walk away.

EJ

Jack gritted his teeth as he pulled the scalpel from the old woman's heart. As he looked down at her withered husk he knew he wouldn't get any meals there. Luckily for him he had obtained something much better - the old bitches house, isolated deep in the middle of a forest it was perfect; plus the old woman was a total recluse so he had at least a few months before anyone started looking for her.

The whole arrangement was almost perfect; he only had to eliminate one more person in the area before he was set - and he bet the blonde, who had just moved into the other house by the forest, was young enough to have some tasty parts left in good condition.

**Evening**

READER

I wander though the rooms upstairs, unsure exactly of what I'm looking for. My cream-coloured room is suspiciously empty, there are no posters or photos, in fact no sign to show anyone lived there at all. I look out of the windows to see a lush green woods on one side and empty roads before a distant town on the other. Then I bump into Lottie who suggests I go have a shower; she seems strangely insistent as she speaks and she goes to her room after. I decide this is the time to do some sleuthing. I turn on the shower in the bathroom and quietly walk to her door, locked of course. I hear her murmuring on the phone, but I can only make out parts.

_ (Y/N)_  
><em> a month enough <em>  
><em> good money<em>  
><em> amnesia<em>  
><em> (YN) (L/N)_  
><em> hurry ...news... ...searching...<em>  
><em> ...fuck... ...a rival?...<em>  
><em> blue masked<em>

I barely have time to reach the bathroom before she leaves.

**Morning**

READER

I pull on a thick black hoodie over a green vest, and thread a belt through my jeans. Today I had decided.

_I can't stay here._

I tell Lottie I'm going for a walk and unsurprisingly she invites herself along. I might not be able to trust Lottie but I think I can out run her. Or outmatch her if it comes to that. So I am reasonably confident as we set off into the forest. We walk deep into its midst and I admire the greenery; the undergrowth becomes more densely packed and we are forced to slow down. I feel uncomfortable, as if dark things lie in the woods, but pin it on Lottie's silence. She knows now.

I whirl round to face her.

"I don't know who the _fuck_ you are but I don't trust you for a minute," I scream at her as I turn swiftly and run. I head for a thick copse of trees, now blind to Lottie's actions.

I don't see it happen but I hear it. I feel it. A gunshot rings out and my shoulder burns and I fall to the dirt. I am face down, shaking and screaming. I am on fire and in agony and it's unbearable because I failed.

She, a few inches shorter than I am, towers over me. She spits on my face and calls me a whore. She hopes I'm glad I just lost my last few months of freedom, that she's glad she can stop pretending. She reaches down and begins to drag me back to the empty house.

_I can't stop her._

EJ

It appeared the blonde wasn't alone, Jack thought to himself, smirking beneath his mask. There was a girl with her, younger and prettier with (HL) (HC) hair fluttering in the breeze. It had been a while since he'd seen a girl who looked so delectable.

However the girls scent, while its undertones were sweet and warm, was flavoured with bitter panic and fear. Delicious.

Jack was as surprised as she was after she was shot.

After she fell screaming and the metallic scent of her blood hit Jack he decided that his course of action would include two things: ripping apart the older bitch and storing her organs in the freezer; and saving the more delicate morsel that was the girl. Meals like her were rare and Jack was very patient when it came to fine dining.


	2. Chapter 1

READER

It seems like shadows are passing over the room and it flickers in and out of existence, black and white. But these shadows are too complete, washing away my entire vision, and are accompanied by a pounding inside my head.

The lights aren't changing. _I'm gaining consciousness._

I feel fire. As if my left shoulder is being branded by a hot iron. Lottie is there, in the corner of my vision, her hands are moving over my shoulder and she is holding some kind of metal contraption.

_Is she burning me?_

She moves clinically, digging inside my flesh now, the metal thing scraping at muscle. It's like she's destroying me from the inside out. My breaths are laboured and, unlike before, I can't manage to scream.

I can't lift my head from the pain, but I try to move my hands, my feet. I can't. My wrists, ankles and waist are bound to the table by leather straps. Were I in better condition I could perhaps lift my shoulders and neck but that's not an option right now. Still, to be so immobilised is horrific. I feel like a butterfly pinned to a display board, only I have no translucent wings to carry me to freedom if I escape.

I shiver and goosebumps rise in waves over my exposed back and arms. I notice a pile of black and green and realise it must be my clothes, meanwhile I'm left in my jeans and a plain black cotton bra.

The room I'm in feels different from Lottie's house - the house felt like it was designed to be lived in, this room feels cold and sterile. White walls and tiles form its backdrop and metal its accents. Shelves on one wall, a small table and the surface I lie on are all steel. A mirror hangs to the wall on my left where I see Lottie's back, hunched and labouring over me.

The thin trails of red on my back are probably the brightest thing this room has seen, I ponder morbidly.

EJ

Jack had circled the blonde's house three times now, and with the glimpses of rooms he had gotten from open curtains he had a rough idea of the layout of the ground floor. He saw the woman drag his deliciously scented prey into a windowless room at the back of the house and therefore decided to enter as far from there as possible. This made the tree reaching to the first floor window highly convenient.

Jack climbed the tree effortlessly and crawled the length of its branches. As he reached the window he noticed it was open a crack.

Shit it was like blondie _wanted_ to be killed.

As Jack pulled on the hinges he noticed the window only opened enough to fit an arm through.

No rest for the wicked.

Jack gripped the window and pulled, tearing it clean of its hinges before throwing it behind him into the woods, then he leapt though. He snapped his head up to be met with... cream? Walls, floors and curtains. And bed covers. Jack walked slowly to the bed before pushing back his mask to inhale properly.

Oh fuck it was _her_.

The (H/C) morsel he had come for, with her exquisite scent. Jack licked his lips and fell to his knees before picking up a slip of fabric he assumed was her nightdress, gripping it tightly he brought it to his nose. That sweet, delectable scent. It made him want to rip something apart. To feel warm blood on his lips and taste the smooth succulent organs hidden under her skin, he wanted to devour her.

Reluctantly Jack tore himself away from the sweetly-scented room and followed a flight of stairs downwards. Ready to plan his next move.

READER

The burning flares briefly, as if some unknown entity had raised the temperature at which it scalded me. I let out a whimper at the same time as Lottie makes a satisfied grunt and yanks the metal out of my shoulder. I see what she is holding, reflected in the mirror. It looks like a pair on long metal tongs, gripping a small unknown object.

_The bullet.  
><em>  
>My stomach heaves as I realise that was buried inside me, like a seed dug in the earth, watered by my blood. Lottie sets it down onto a tray and crouches at my side. She takes my face in her bloody grasp.<p>

"Listen to me you little slut, you are _nothing_. All that defines you has been taken. You no longer matter. You are worth what we say you are worth. You are worth what humans will pay for you. You will not know freedom since freedom is for humans. And if you do not understand, we will teach you. We care little for the cost of that." Lottie spits out at me. She releases me and reaches into her pockets for her mobile.

"It is easier to unmake you indirectly, with kind words and chemicals. But where kind words fail, pain succeeds. In a way little one, we care the most. Now you are far from home with no friends and allies. We would make sure you were fed and sheltered, at least while you were in our custody. It doesn't matter now."

While she speaks Lottie types into her mobile, as she finishes she raises it to her ear.

"The item is fine, I doubt she'll even scar. In fact if she doesn't then we don't even need to mention it to the customers... ...No they won't care about that, freaks they are... ...how should I know that?" Lottie moves to a stainless steel sink and runs bloody fingers under the tap. The sound of rushing water is harsh and masks some of her words.

"...the masked man, a local myth... ...real problems, like the police... ...I told you they were freaks, still they're superstitious... ...don't mention that OK" Lottie gives me one last look, this time of appraisal and leaves the room, she doesn't shut the door.

EJ

It wasn't long before the woman appeared, smelling vaguely of the girl's blood; this pissed off Jack, who held his scalpel in a death-grip at his side. She disappeared into a room that resembled an office and Jack began to stalk towards her door.

Jack smirked under his mask and twirled the cool metal between his fingers. This woman had been marked for death, now it was time to carry out her sentence.

He stepped in the room without warning and grabbed the woman by the hair, pulling her sharply backwards. She let out a shriek and her hands flew to Jack's wrist, now entangled in blonde locks. This was her first mistake.

Jack took advantage of her distraction to grab her gun, so carelessly placed on a pile of papers, and throw it down the hall. That gun damaged his prey. Shot hot metal into her flesh and caused her pain and only he should be causing her pain. He pulled the woman up against his chest and rested his blade against her neck. She quietened instantly.

"You hurt her, you bitch, when you didn't have the right" Jack growled into the woman's ear. In return she let out a useless string of pleading. She begged for mercy and promised him anything but Jack was not moved. He only wanted to do one thing to her.

He smiled as he thrust the blade into her neck. She screamed again and he stabbed again. Several times. When her mouth was still moving but she had gone quiet he realised he had destroyed her voice box. How convenient. Jack tossed her body onto the floor and went to retrieve his rucksack from another room.

Then he lined up the Tupperware boxes next to her body.

Jack made careful incisions into her abdomen, removing her kidneys and liver. They didn't come out easily and he had to dig around her entrails to separate the parts; he would have just ripped them out but there was the risk of damaging the meat. As he progressed he sealed the different parts into the containers. Soon he reached her lungs and as he prepared to reach into her ribcage he looked her in the eyes.

They were rolled back into her head and spilling tears that she blinked away.

She was still alive? _Fascinating_.

Jack peeled the lungs apart and put them away, only to look at the blondes face again. He was pretty sure she was dead now. That left only the heart. However since the rest of her chest cavity was so hollow Jack merely had to reach in and pluck the organ out like a grape off the vine.

Cutting this woman up had left him hungry and he had harvested a lot, he justified to himself. Then he bit into the succulent heart in his hand; blood directly from the heart tasted thicker and richer and the muscle was lean, it made a delicious meal. Jack finished his snack quickly and began packing his organs away. But even as he did he couldn't help but think about the girl and what her heart would taste like.

Now the older bitch was out of the way, Jack could really enjoy himself.

READER

Tears leak from your eyes as you stare into the harsh white wall. You hear a figure approach the door and try to stifle your sobs by biting your lip. She was back.

You squeeze your eyes shut and hear footsteps approach you. They pause on the right side of you, away from where you're facing. Their shadow lies on your skin, it feels massive, bigger than anything Lottie could cast. Briefly you hear the sound of fabric being pulled away and you nearly scream when a cool fingernail makes a path over your shoulder blade, instead you just let out a gasp.

Soon the finger is gone, replaced by others. Large hands glide over your abdomen and trail your spine upwards. They tentatively touch your hair before going again. You feel a body close to you, looming over you, it's right by your face now.

You taste blood and release your lip, realising what you had done to it.

Your silence is broken entirely as you feel a tongue glide over your wounded lip. You wrench open your eyes and shriek till your throat is hoarse. In the mirror you see the figure hovering over you. His hands are pressed on either side of your head and he stares down intently. A blue mask sits haphazardly on his face, pushed up to expose his mouth.

He grins and you see his teeth, sharp and jagged like a sharks with the bloodstains to match.

Your screaming overflows from your mouth and fills your entire body; you convulse under your bonds as the man reaches for your throat.


	3. Chapter 2

READER

I try to move, lash out or generally just struggle; but I feel my body get sluggish.

It was almost a minute ago that I had felt a prick in my neck from that strange man, now he's just standing there, watching me. He slides his mask down to cover his face properly and I get a better look at it. It's unsettling, completely featureless bar the two black abysses where his eyes should be, slowly streaming a thick black tar down its cheeks.

I don't know what he's injected me with, but clearly he's waiting for something to happen.

I feel a great fatigue come over me and while my vision hasn't gone, it starts to blur. Is this man one of Lottie's accomplices? I remember when she spoke to me, she said "we" a lot. Then there was the matter of who she was on the phone to. I try to say something, to question him, but my mouth only lets me say a slurred

"Who..."

The word, or rather the way I say the word, seems to please the stranger. He moves around my body and starts to unbuckle my restraints. As he releases me he bows his head close to my skin; I can hear him inhale, smelling me.

I can't move.

I can see but my vision blurs. I see the man walk over to the shelves and to take something white, it looks like some kind of gauze. He returns to me and starts to gently press against my wounded shoulder. I may be immobilised but I still feel pain and it stings from the surface of my skin to deep within my flesh. I can't make a sound and my mouth is slack and open slightly, I think I'm drooling. How disgusting.

The man tapes down bandages, and after he's finished I can't stop him from reaching down to pick me up. He positions me over his shoulder, my back exposed, and carries me out of the room. As he walks I see something glint on the floor and notice a gun, cast aside. As I drift down the corridor, legs held tight be the man, I begin to feel nauseous.

I can smell something. It smells vile, like blood and death. And suddenly I remember...

_...where's Lottie?_

The man turns slightly as we walk down the hall. At one point the smell becomes so overpowering I feel like I could gag, but all I can see is the shiny wooden floor. Are those dots of red, scattered like rose petals? My vision is cloudy again and now speckled with red. Or is that the floor? Does it really matter?

I have no idea where I am, who any of these people are, or what they want. But worse than not knowing their motivations, I don't know what I want. I'm guessing I have a family but since I don't know them, I have no feelings towards them. How did I lose them anyway - what if they're part of the reason why I'm here? Was my old life good, bad? Do I try to return to it or do I start a new one?

I feel bad about the way I'm thinking. I want to want to go home. But the word is meaningless to me. I want to want to miss my family. But I don't know if they exist - and if they do I can't miss what I have forgotten.

I feel numb. Does this make me a bad person?

I barely even notice that the man has sat me down on a chair in the kitchen, my upper body slumped down on the cold marble table. This is where Lottie talked to me before and showed me that note. Was I forced to write it? Before my memories were taken.

My right cheek is pressed into the cold stone and my upper body is still covered in goosebumps. I haven't felt warmth in so long.

EJ

Jack backed away from his victim. Her body was slouching over the table and she stared vacantly forwards. As he lowered her down he realised how cool she was to his touch. This angered him. He wanted to feel her blood race under her skin, full of life and vitality. He wanted her healthy and strong - this weakness would mar her taste.

It was obvious something was very wrong with this particular family dynamic, Jack thought to himself. The girl was the captive of the woman, but why? Who were they both and why were they here? In this strange house with the cold white room at the back.

Unfortunately for these mysteries Jack was both very curious and enjoyed taking trophies from hunts. He enjoyed finding things out about his victims and grew very good at what he would refer to as "investigating" but was in fact closer to "spying" in the homes of his prey.

He'd unearthed all sorts of secrets - from family disputes to affairs to crimes. Once after he murdered a woman he discovered a diary leading him to think she would kill her boyfriend. In Jack's view said boyfriend should be very grateful to him, except for the fact he was staying over that night.

Unlucky.

Jack stepped back to the office where the Blonde's corpse was resting. She was a mess - throat torn apart and blood dripping down her face; her abdomen peeled back and hollowed out. Useless now.

He stepped over the body and surveyed the room, the piles of paper would take hours to sort so they could wait, her phone and laptop however looked just as useful. Both were locked of course but Jack trusted his chances.

Jack pocketed the phone and began to sift though the papers. The drug would wear off the girl in about 10 minutes. He doubted she'd struggle much after that but he wanted to be moving at least. He could return for the rest later.

As he left to the room, Jack was sure to grab one final trophy.

READER

I'm still resting on this cold marble when he comes back. This time he seems more... energetic? Before he was observing, almost evaluating me. Now I can't read him. He has a rucksack slung over his shoulder and when he approaches me I can hear something ratting around inside. He detours to my right and sets something yellow and red on the counter. As he comes near I urge my body to retreat but still I'm motionless. He brushes some stray (H/C) hairs behind my ear and I notice his skin, an ashen grey, and his nails, wickedly sharp.

"Hello (Y/N)" he murmurs to my ear. I feel his mask, cool and smooth, brush my face.

My heart rate quickens and I can hear the blood pounding by my ears. Somehow I've pleased him as I hear him chuckle under the mask; I'm sure he's smirking.

"I wonder what's happened to you"

Gently he picks me up again, this time with one arm under my knees and one supporting my body. I'm cradled against his chest and he's being strangely careful.

Every part of my brain was screaming at me. This man is dangerous, get away; but he didn't appear to be connected to Lottie. That was something? I didn't know Lottie's plans for me but at least I knew she brought me here and was responsible for my memories. I have no idea what this man wants.

As he turns to carry me towards the door I see the yellow and red object he set aside.

_Lottie._

Well her head at least. Blonde hair sticks to her face by rich red blood. Blood soaks through her cheeks and drips from her lips. It hides in burst veins in her brown eyes and even clings to her mascara. One of her fake eyelashes peels away, like an ugly black spider with a hundred legs all sprawled out.

He did this, set her out to show me his handiwork.

_What is he?_


	4. Chapter 3

READER

My world is in shades of green. Myrtle and celadon blur beneath his feet, sage and emerald converge as they fly past me and a canopy of chartreuse and harlequin seems to hang far above us both. I remember that green vest I wore this morning, I would have perfectly matched.

Where did that top go? I'm so cold without it. The cold has completely filled me; I have to stop it. Where am I? This green is familiar. The forest. The forest I saw out of the window to that room, that cream empty bedroom. Not my room though. Do I have a room, a house? They're lost now I suppose. I need to get warm; I need to get rid of the damn cold. There is something warm, the soft black surface I'm resting against; now if I can just turn a bit to face it.

It smells like metal but I burrow my face into it anyway. Right now it's the most comforting thing I have.

EJ

Jack kept his gaze fixed forwards as he ran through the forest, carefully following the path he took earlier.

He tried to focus on the scents of the forest, the woody bark and the damp undergrowth - a wet earthy smell that wasn't at all appetising. The more of the forest he inhaled, the less of _her _could get in his head.

(Y/N) was starting to bleed through her makeshift bandages; as her blood mingled with the air Jack felt some primal urge to stop right there and be done with it. The girl was lucky he had ate recently. He remembered her face when she saw the blonde's head, far away from the remains of her body: a combination of shock, horror and disgust. There were no traces of sorrow though, which almost pleased Jack.

That was strange.

Why the fuck did he care what she thought? Though he clearly did care, why else display the head but to see her reaction? Jack shook his head, bloodlust made him act weirdly.

Still...

He glanced down at (Y/N), just to check on her. She was cradled against his chest shivering slightly, her skin covered in tiny goosebumps. Humans weren't very good with the cold after all and all she had covering the top of her body was a scrap of black cotton covering her breasts. He remembered the hassle of his last meal. He had to pick bits of lace from her lungs when he ripped open her rib cage. No, when he prepared _this_ dish he would be sure to remove any other materials before hand.

Jack looked at her lips. He recalled the taste of her blood there; the most exquisite flavour he had ever sampled. Both rich and fulfilling but with a light sweetness. Then there was the taste of her lips. They didn't have the same flavour as her blood, they didn't seem edible at all. But still, it was pleasant; a strange curiosity.

Jack decided it was something to try again, at least while she was still breathing.

READER

The world starts to slow down. I turn my head slightly, silently rejoicing that I can move again. The blur of green settles into the trees, surrounding us on three sides. In front however is something else.

The small brick house looks strangely out of place.

The forest feels old, as if its trees have been here for centuries before me and will be for centuries after; but the house looks fairly new, a few decades old at most.

Is this the man's home?

I sincerely doubt it. The house looks small but comfortable, domestic. It doesn't suit my captor but then I don't know what would. A dungeon perhaps? Somewhere cold and metallic.

I start to wiggle my fingers as he unlocks the door and carries me across the threshold, trying to regain movement. We stand in a narrow hall, the walls painted a pale blue and the carpet white. A pair of well-worn pink slippers are placed neatly to the left. As the man walks me down that narrow hall I try to inconspicuously shift my limbs, if I can catch him by surprise maybe I can run?

We turn through a door and he sets me down on what looks like a dining table, I notice several bags made of the same material as his rucksack strewn on the floor, out of place in the rustic room and its cabinets of what looked like small porcelain animals.

I don't try to move until I see him take a few lengths of rope out of one of the bags.

Then the adrenaline starts to kick in.

I let out a startled noise and try to scramble across the table. That godforsaken drug still hasn't worn off though and I stumble and lose my balance. I must look pathetic.

The man stands in shock for only a heartbeat before he is next to me. In one swift motion he hauls my leg back and binds it to a table leg; I can only cry and claw at the table as he repeats the process on my other leg. By the time he ties up my second arm I am sobbing. He wipes away a tear and crouches close to my face. I can tell that he enjoys this, having me completely immobilised.

I know he's smiling under his mask when he croons in my ear "_This _part is for your benefit too you know,"

I lay there for a few minutes as he does something in the room behind me; I can hear him searching through cupboards and slamming them close. I look at the cabinets and shelves on the wall, full of small ornaments and china plates as well as several photos that I can't make out. Yes, he definitely does not live here. I wonder what happened to the last owner?

I can finally move and as I struggle I begin to feel my shoulder again.

It begins as a low ache. But the intensity increases and it starts to burn; by the time the man returns it's unbearable. At the surface it's a point of white heat but deeper into my flesh the pain spreads.

He laughs again and I scream in response. I hear him open something. I see his mask set down on the table in the corner of my eye and he bends down over me. His hair brushes my face as he whispers to me "This _will_ hurt,"

Then I hear liquid moving in a bottle and I can smell the sharp scent of alcohol.

I feel it rain down on my skin and it is like fire. It flows through every nerve in my body burning me away and surely I'm dying? And then the pain, when I think it has consumed me, radiates further.

It's a relief when it washes over my head and the colours of the world are drained away to black.


	5. Chapter 4

READER

_I'm drifting on a cloud, floating in its soft warm embrace. I smell salt and look down to see a shimmering blue ocean below me. The waves twist and dance and take on a bleaker hue until I am faced with an expanse of deep dark blue._

_Suddenly my cloud fades away and I drop into that deep blue sea. It is warm and my skin tingles where it washes over me. Then, as my feet kick, I see something rise. A thick black oil bubbles to the surface and envelops me; as I struggle it gets thicker until it's a sticky tar holding me in place. I begin to sink and all fades to black._

_Now I'm suffocating, sinking further into darkness. I open my mouth to scream for help but the dark claws into my throat and fills my lungs. Then suddenly I'm rising, fingers grip my arms tightly and pull me up, up, up into the light. I cough and splutter and dislodge the pitch in my lungs and, hands still gripping my arms, open my eyes._

My wrists hang limp by my sides and something heavy pins my legs. I see hands curled round my arms, supporting my upper body. And directly in front of my face, a blue mask.

My throat is too hoarse to allow me to scream and so all I can do is blink at the pale imitation of a face in front of me. We stay like that for a few moments. Him the predator, two black pits fixated on me; and I the prey, caught in his grip and in his gaze. I feel the blood rise under my skin, blossoming a red flush. But the moment ends as he leans back and stands up; his fingers never leave me and I'm pulled along in his wake. As my feet touch the floor I try to flex my toes into the soft carpet, but my legs stagger and buckle under the weight of my body and I slip from his grasp and to the ground.

He laughs under his breath as he reaches towards me and I cower against the bed. I want to run but I'm so exhausted. It feels as though all of my energy has been leached away.

I take notice of the soft cotton against my skin; my bra and jeans are gone, replaced by a soft black shirt that hangs low on my shoulders and high on my thighs. The material is thin and I feel exposed, vulnerable. I'm powerless to stop him from pulling me to my feet and sweeping me off them.

I'm slung over his shoulder and he holds me still by my thigh. His hand is uncomfortably warm and pressed against the exposed flesh at the top of my thigh, only centimetres away from becoming inappropriate. He doesn't seem to notice, doesn't make any lewd gestures. He simply keeps his hand there, as if stopping me from forgetting his presence.

We move into another room with a tiled floor, a bathroom. The room only contains a bath and cabinet but has several adjoining doors. The white bath rests against a wall and a pale grey curtain flutters open around it, caught in the breeze generated by our arrival. The room is warm, the air thick and heavy, and I notice the bath is full of clear water, with a thin vapour trailing away from it.

I gasp as he lowers me into the warm water, it washes over my legs and covers me up to my waist. He draws the curtain and shoves his forearm past it. His veins are taut under his grey skin and his arm is muscular, imposing.

"Take them off,"

His voice drifts through the curtain as if carried on the steam.

I wince in protest as I pull the top over my head; my wound throbs but in discomfort rather than pain. I pass him the damp cloth. He sighs before he speaks again.

"All of it,"

His voice is strained, slightly uncomfortable. I'm glad to be concealed by the silvery curtain as I delicately rest my undergarments on the shirt.

His hand is pulled swiftly away as I huddle beneath the hot water.

"Clean yourself. Keep the wound dry." He commands before I hear his footsteps fade. The door stays open.

I wash the dirt and sweat away from my body, aware of just how filthy I am. There's some kind of body wash for which I'm grateful. It smells like mango.

I close my eyes and enjoy the simple pleasures from the sweet smell and the feeling of warmth on my body. My eyelids sink and I feel tightly wound muscles uncoil; I could almost forget the situation I'm in,

until I see him.

His silhouette stands dark and harsh through the curtain; his stance like iron, hard and unyielding. I expect him to walk with an almost mechanical edge, but he saunters forwards in a disturbingly human way. I pull my knees to my chest and make sure I'm covered only moments before he pulls the curtain back with such force as to surprise me it isn't ripped away entirely.

His eyes linger on me for but a few seconds before he moves to kneel behind me. He pushes my hair behind my right shoulder, his hands lingering by my neck. He leans towards he till I feel lips brush my shoulder and inhales. I shiver violently, despite the warm water, and he pulls away. My bandages are ripped from my skin in one swift motion, causing me to gasp suddenly. I catch sight of them as he tosses them aside.

They're black like ink.

He gently wrings water over the exposed wound and my skin tingles at the contact. I tilt my head back slightly and see the water begin to turn opaque with a black substance. It runs down my back in thin rivulets and clouds the water with a thick black oil. I remember my dream, drowning in darkness and choking on it as it filled my lungs. I lurch forward in panic; trying desperately to get away from it.

He is impatient as he pulls me back and dislodges my arms. My panic only escalates as my chest is exposed and I wrench my arms back to preserve my modestly. My breathing is laboured as choked sobs fall uselessly from my mouth and I pull my head down to rest on my knees.

He stays silent as he continues to rinse water over my back. Washing away the black substance. It is not until he is satisfied than he pulls the plug and lets the water,now faintly grey, wash away. He pulls down a shower hose and rests it on my feet before pulling the curtain closed. I don't wait for him to speak before I wash away any residue, noticing the veins of red among the black.

He pulls open the curtain once more, mask pointed away from me, and passes me a towel before he leaves the room. I try to stand on shaky legs to dry myself as best as possible, muttering profanities.

EJ

Jack leant back against the purple wall, it was distastefully bright in his opinion. Steam poured out of the doorway next to him and he heard her as she stumbled and cursed under her breath. The steam made to uncomfortably hot under his mask so he pushed it back. As his nose was freed (Y/N)'s scent became stronger, no longer masked by dirt but enhanced by something pleasantly sweet. He recalled the slight of her, her (S/C) skin warm beneath his touch and her (H/C) hair tossed over over one shoulder. When she looked at him she did so with exquisite (E/C) eyes, so unlike the chasms he had in place of his own.

He couldn't help but let his gaze wander as she sat in that pool of water, so vulnerable, so defenceless. The familiar urges came over him, to rip and tear and bite and taste. They nearly overwhelmed him and cost (Y/N) her life if not for one detail. His curiosity.

A life of friends and normal hobbies would never be a possibility for Jack, not looking the way he did, and he'd long since finished mourning those lost opportunities. However a life consisting of nothing but hunting and eating bored him. He needed something more, to stimulate his mind and keep him occupied. So rather than enjoying a life of his own, he studied those that he stole. He didn't look into every meal but pried into the personal affairs of those with lives that stoked his interest.

And this girl interested him very much.

It would be a waste kill her before he'd extracted everything useful from her, and her story could almost be as delicious as the way her beating heart would taste on his tongue and the sweet flavours of her kidneys.

READER

I step slowly towards the door, now draped in a soft towel with only a pair of plain cotton underwear beneath. As I step under the door frame I steady myself, one hand grips the side and the other holds my towel in place. I turn to the right and see nothing out of the ordinary. Then I look to the left and let out a gasp. _He_ is sitting there, hastily pulling down his mask. He hauls himself to his feet and slams one hand on the wall by my head, stepping uncomfortably close his other hand rests on the small of my back, pulling me towards him.

He looks down on me in appraisal and pushes me towards the bed till my legs collide with it. An ugly orange towel rests on the covers. He gives me a less than gentle shove and suddenly I'm lying face down on the orange cover. He moves my towel and hair to expose the wound and probes at it. I hiss at the intrusion but I can feel how it has healed. Impossibly quickly. He's done something; I'm sure of it.

Then he takes of his mask.

He sets it near my head, turned awkwardly to one side, and I stare at it in confusion. It's a deep dark blue and a black tar-like substance drips from the eye sockets. It all seems so familiar. I hear movement above me and something warm drop onto my back, only to be quickly massaged into the wound. It's thick and warm and my skin prickles at the contact before starting to go numb. It makes the area feel heavy and as I sink into the bed I remember something else.

_I'm suffocating, sinking further into darkness._

My dream! My dream of thick black tar drowning me, inky black contrasting with deep blue. Just like the mask in front of me.

So then, the black secretions from his eyes...

In a way I'm becoming horribly used to, I start to scream.


End file.
